


Pencil Me In

by jonsasnow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a mother hen, Dydia, F/M, Tumblr Prompt, a lil smutty?? but not really, also 28 and lydia is 21, because u know derek likes the word 'fuck' a lot, lots of swearing, so not Underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 18:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Derek squirts a dollop of sunscreen into his hand and then realises belatedly that that means he now has to touch her. He really did not think this through.Or the one in which Lydia's back in Beacon Hills and Derek has a hard time reconciling the fact that he wants her





	Pencil Me In

**Author's Note:**

> I dont know if I should write a Part II for this with some smutty goodness  
> Let me know in the comments if you guys want one? It's a rarepair so Idk if anyone will even read this lol

The sun is bright, the air is sticky, and everyone in Beacon Hills is out laughing and having a grand old time, so of course, that means Derek Hale is fucking miserable. Despite what Stiles likes to tell people, he’s _not_  allergic to fun, but crowds make him antsy. There are always too many people bumping into him or trying to engage him in small talk and Derek hates small talk more than he hated Kate Argent and he really fucking hated her. 

Truth be told, he doesn’t really know how to _talk_  to people. He’s never had to. Having a traumatic childhood and an even more traumatic adulthood sort of means Derek is better at isolation than he is at being sociable. Scott, Stiles and those kids were the first group of ‘friends’ he’d had since high school and they’re not exactly a normal group of friends either. Besides, they’re so much younger than him; it didn’t really feel like ‘friendship’. Most of the time, it felt like he was babysitting children, especially if he had to spend more than ten minutes with Scott and Stiles simultaneously. 

Watching them now, however, Derek has to admit he doesn’t really have that excuse anymore. They’re not kids. Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately, he hasn’t decided yet) they’re all adults now. They’re twenty-one and he’s twenty-eight, and fuck, where had the last decade gone? 

“Hey Sour Wolf.”   


Derek sighs, barely glancing at her as she comes to stand beside him. “Will that nickname ever die?” 

“Not when it’s still true,” she says, and he can practically _hear_  the smirk in her voice, as she bumps her hip with his. “What’s your deal?”   


“Nothing’s my deal,” he huffs because he’s an anti-social asshole and he’s never gonna change.   


She chuckles softly. “God, you really _are_  allergic to fun, aren’t you? It’s a summer fair, Derek. _Smile_.” 

He turns to give her his most sardonic smile but freezes instead when he catches sight of her. He didn’t have the chance to see her when she got into town yesterday afternoon and Lydia Martin hasn’t been back in Beacon Hills in over a year, so seeing her now for the first time in far too long, Derek is dumbfounded. She was always a pretty girl but in a peripheral sense that didn’t really register to someone seven years her senior. Fuck it if Derek isn’t noticing her now though. Lydia is all soft smooth pale skin, bright copper hair that glints like it’s on fire under the glare of the sunlight and those full pink lips that’s just begging for him to taste, and –  _Jesus fucking Christ, Hale, get a grip!_

“What?” she demands, and suddenly, Derek sees the girl he used to know because that girl is scowling at him and it’s oh-so-familiar again.   


“You’re showing an awful lot of skin, Martin,” he points out, boldly fingering the thin strap of her sundress, and if his touch lingers just a little too long, she doesn’t say anything.   


“Is that a crime?” Lydia arches her brow. “I didn’t realise you were such a fashion police.”   


Derek snorts. “You’re going to burn. Have you even got sunscreen on?” 

“Oh my god, what are you, my mom?” Lydia exclaims, but her lips are quirked upwards and there’s a glint of amusement in her hazel eyes. “Yes, I have sunscreen on.”   


“What SPF?” he asks because if he doesn’t act like the babysitter with her, he’s going to flirt with her and that’s just a bad idea. Adult or not, he’s still significantly older than her. He’s known her since she was sixteen. It’s wrong. Very fucking wrong.   


Lydia rolls her eyes but she humours him. “Fifteen.” 

“Yeah, you’re going to burn,” Derek groans. He takes her by the wrist and starts to drag her from the festivities of the fair. She doesn’t really protest, but he can hear her telling him he’s turned into a complete weirdo. He happily admits that he is. Maybe he’s just been alone for too long. Since they left for college, Derek doesn’t really have much to do aside from drinking and poker nights with Parrish and his friends. Occasionally, Braeden will swing into town and they’ll fuck every which way to Sunday, but yeah, Derek has turned into a weirdo now.   


“Are you seriously _mothering_  me?” Lydia says, as they come to a stop in front of his car. Derek unlocks the backdoor and rummages through the gym bag he has in the back. He comes away with a half-used bottled of sunscreen _SPF 30_.   


“I’m not your fucking mother,” he says with a sigh. “But I am your friend, right? And you’re a redhead. You’ll burn in this sun.”

Derek squirts a dollop of sunscreen into his hand and then realises belatedly that that means he now has to touch her. He really did not think this through. 

[[MORE]]

Lydia, however, seems completely oblivious to his sudden distress as she sighs and turns around, pulling down the straps of her dress so he has full access to her bare back. And oh fuck, Derek really doesn’t want to be touching her bare back with his bare hands and rubbing into her smooth skin. He really, _really_  doesn’t. 

Coughing, he steels himself for the inevitable and thinks of Chris Argent naked as he rubs the sunscreen onto her skin. As if that isn’t bad enough, he hears the sudden intake of Lydia’s breath and it’s doing horrible, _horrible_  things to his body. “So…” he hedges, trying to find any distraction. “How’s college?”   


She shrugs. He feels her muscles moving as she does so, and how the hell can that turn him on too? 

“It’s okay,” Lydia says, seemingly unperturbed or even aware of Derek’s complete meltdown behind her. “I’ve only got a year left and then I’m thinking about taking a year off before doing my masters.”   


“Wh-” Derek clears his throat. “What do you want to do in your year off?”   


She’s quiet for a moment as Derek’s hands trail up her back to the base of her neck. He wants to bend his head and kiss her right there, taste the salt on her skin, and maybe pull her into the back seat of his car and taste more than that, but instead, he just continues to smooth the sunscreen over her shoulders. 

“Is it dumb if I say I miss it here?” Lydia snorts. “I spent all of high school desperate to leave this place, but… I miss it. For all the bad memories, there were some good ones too.”   


“It’s not dumb,” Derek answers. He’s done so he turns her around and hands her the sunscreen bottle because like hell is he going to apply to her front too. “It’s home. You can’t just… erase that.” He averts his gaze when she begins to smooth the sunscreen onto her neck. “But for what it’s worth, Lydia, you’re made for much bigger things than Beacon Hills. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I never went to college, but you’re a literal genius. You can get out. You _should_.”   


She stops and he sees her watching him in his peripheral. “You’re not an idiot either, Derek. You know you can leave.” 

“I could,” Derek replies, shrugging. “But… my family protected this town for many years. We helped rebuild it. And with Cora in god-knows-where, I’m the only one left to take on the job.”

“Sounds lonely.” 

“I’ve got Parrish and Chris,” Derek says, turning now to wink at her. “It’s not too bad.” 

Lydia rolls her eyes before she abruptly steps into his personal space. “What if I move back for a year?” 

“Then you can join in on our Sunday night poker game,” he says, trying not to fucking tremble just at her proximity. 

She steps closer and pushes him until he’s backed against his car. “What if _you_  find a different night to pencil me in?”   


Derek is suddenly very aware that Lydia Martin _is_ twenty-one and there’s a fire in her eyes that makes him his body alight with want. Emboldened, he reaches out to curl a hand around her waist. He tugs her a little closer. “That could be arranged,” he murmurs, leaning in. “But just one night?” 

Lydia places her hands on his chest. “I don’t know if you can handle me for more than a night.” 

“Challenge fucking accepted, Lydia Martin,” Derek growls out as he captures her lips with his, curling the other hand around her waist and pulling her flushed against him. She’s so small, so slender and petite in comparison to his six feet, but god does she fit against him so well. 

He trails his hands down her lower back, desperate to just tug this damned sundress off of her and feel every inch of her skin, but it occurs to him they’re still in broad daylight. Granted, they’re in an empty parking lot, but it doesn’t seem ideal to fuck Lydia against his car at two in the afternoon where any of their dumb friends could catch them. 

But Lydia seems to be having similar thoughts and fewer qualms about it as her hands fist into his shirt, slowly pulling it upwards, all the while kissing him as passionately as he’s kissing her. He almost gives in, but he stills her hands and pulls back.   


“Not here,” he murmurs against her lips, chest heaving rapidly.   


“Prude,” she murmurs back, but she leans back slightly to smirk at him. Her lips are rosy red and swollen, and it turns him on so fucking much that Derek throws a little caution to the wind by pulling her in for another kiss while drawing one hand up her thigh under her dress, just skimming the tops of her underwear. Lydia moans against him. “Fucking,” she pants, “tease.”   


It’s his turn to smirk now and he does so, as he rubs a thumb over her slit through the thin cloth, before pulling away altogether. “Get in the car, Lydia. We’re going for a ride.” 

Lydia arches her brow but does as he says with a chuckle. “Yes, sir.” 

As they race back to his loft, Derek has to admit that he’s never been gladder that all those annoying high schoolers he met nearly a decade ago are now adults, especially the breathtaking, fucking ridiculously sexy redhead in the seat beside him. 

And if she wants, he’ll schedule her in for every goddamn night of his life so long as he gets to keep kissing and touching her. 


End file.
